


spring will come again

by prncesselene



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Florist Rey, Fluff, Soft Ben, soft rey, the greenhouse is a metaphor, this is so soft i want to cuddle with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prncesselene/pseuds/prncesselene
Summary: “And it’s a lovely greenhouse. I hope I’m able to do it justice, when all is said and done.”His fingers are still rubbing absently on her ankle, and he’s looking at her pink socks with the daisies on them when he says, “You will. You already have.”Rey is contracted by Leia to renovate Padme Amidala's old, decaying greenhouse. Over the course of a year, Rey gets way more than she ever bargained for.Based onthis promptfrom Twitter!
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 100
Kudos: 516
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts), my favourite Reylo





	spring will come again

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Снова наступит весна](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556315) by [Aleksandra_Orly (defiersofthestars)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/defiersofthestars/pseuds/Aleksandra_Orly)



> Also available on [Ficbook](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9487292/24340986).
> 
> I don't know anything about greenhouses. Or gardening, for that matter.

**_Summer_ **

Summers in Naboo are a notoriously humid affair. Falls are comfortable, winters are forgiving, and from the shadows of the cold the spring emerges with bright, fresh skies and wind that tickles your cheek before a rainstorm. 

But summer — that’s the time to get away. 

Leia Organa sits at the head of her desk in the city of Theed, and Rey can’t help but notice that her ring bears the insignia of three families — the Organas, Skywalkers and Amidalas. She doesn’t ask, but she’s always wondered. What it would be like to have so many names to wear, so many legacies under your belt. There isn’t a soul in all of Naboo that isn’t aware of the tumultuous history of those three families. The allure of forbidden love, a family torn apart and estranged, until finally: reunions, a wedding with a young rogue, a child. 

It’s all terribly romantic. 

“I am in the process of restoring my mother’s estate in Varykino. It is very important that we are able to restore it to her former glory.” 

Leia fiddles with the papers on her desk, perfectly manicured nails trembling slightly. “You mentioned you run a flower shop?” 

“Yes, in the city,” Rey’s shop had grown from a modest booth in the Sunday market to an entire storefront that boasted flowers both domestic and foreign. Even tourists knew of _Niima’s Garden,_ flocking to it in droves each spring. “I’ve been running it for a few years now, but I’ve worked with plants all my life.” 

Leia nods, pleased. “This greenhouse is no small feat. I would need you on the premises for the entire year, with a tentative deadline of spring. Is that something you think you can do?’ 

Rey had figured it would be a remote job — the listing had advertised it alongside a picture of the estate, and Varykino was at least a few hours away on the train. Rose, her one coworker, had already been trained on the fundamentals of running the Garden, and in preparation for the interview Rey had gifted her friend with her own set of keys for the shop. 

“Yes. I do.” 

Leia’s smile comes easily then, pleased with her gumption. “Perfect. Pack your bags — you start on Monday.”

Rey’s first few days in Varykino are lonely, but she doesn’t mind. She’s used to loneliness, has learned how to weaponize it. She wakes before the sun and gets to work, foregoing her typical dress and apron for overalls and gloves, picking at weeds and thorns in the ground. She falls asleep with the moon, dreams full of orchards and gardens and broken things that she can restore to life with a tender hand. 

The greenhouse at the estate is like nothing she’s ever seen before with wide, glass windows that curve upwards into a dome-like top. Her store in the city is a step up from the booth, sure, but it’s still a cramped storefront at the end of the day. The land and sky that surrounds the greenhouse like a mother’s embrace feels warm and freeing. 

It’s enchanting and gothic all at once, and Rey’s heart is set on fire at the thought of converting it into a room where life can bloom. 

A few days into her contract, Leia visits with her son.

Despite the old, exciting stories about the Organa-Skywalker-Amidala marriage with the young Solo scoundrel, Rey quickly catches onto the fact that nothing is truly as it seems. 

He’s tall. That’s the first thing Rey is able to notice — later, she learns of the way his eyes shift in the light, turning from a dark brown to a light hazel, specks of green not unlike that of the greenhouse walls and smiles that, when drawn from him, feel like receiving a secret gift. 

For now, she learns that he is tall and that a scowl is set upon his face as though it were drawn with a permanent marker. His hands are warm when he takes her smaller one in his to shake it. 

She gives them her own tour of the greenhouse, only a few days in and already treating it as if it were an extension of her person, pointing out where things will go and how the roses will be able to hit the light when they eventually bloom. Leia nods approvingly, but her son walks with that scowl, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. 

She hears them arguing when she finally takes her lunch, hands wrapped across her sandwich. 

“You _need_ to learn to let old things die.” His voice is deep and angry, frustration etched in every syllable. “We can’t keep living like this, stuck to the past.” 

Leia sighs, patient but firm. She doesn’t rise to the challenge in her son’s voice. “This isn’t about living in the _past_ Ben, this is about taking it with us into the future. Do you expect me to just let these memories die? Everything that existed here?” 

“This isn’t a worthwhile investment. Why won’t you listen to me? We should demolish it and—” 

“ _Ben_. I have hired a very skilled gardener to help me restore this estate into a place I am proud to call ours. Our family’s legacy may mean little to you, but it means a hell of a lot to me that this is turned into somewhere that grows beyond us. Somewhere you can bring your children one day.”

“We could be getting a _fortune_ for this land.”  
  
“This is about family, Ben. I need you to realize that.”

“Family. You’re going to sit here and lecture me about _family?_ ”

The conversation turns from near-shouts to hurried whispers, as though they’ve touched on a subject neither of them want to broach too loudly, until finally he groans, loud and frustrated, but there’s resignation there, too. “If you’re really set on doing this, I want to be involved. _Every_ step of the way.” 

“That seems appropriate. You’re set to inherit all of it, anyways.” 

There’s a smile in Leia’s voice.“Why don’t you make it a habit of coming down every week to check on the progress?” 

And so the year begins in earnest. 

The first few visits, he’s like a ghost — always in her periphery, judging silently. They exchange pleasantries as she greets him, each time in a pair of overalls more frumpy and dirty than the last. She makes sure to smile at him as much as she can; something tells her he needs it. Slowly, his scowl starts to give way to a flattened line. 

She tries to ignore how often she fixates on his lips. 

“I’m almost done cleaning up,” she tells him one week, the sun bright in the sky. This is when she notices the light in his eyes. The way the brown sinks into a soft hazel. “I know it’s been a while, but — well, this greenhouse is quite large.”

“Do you need assistance? We can hire some help, if you think it’s necessary.” He doesn’t look like he thinks _any_ of it is necessary, but the slump in his shoulder has become less pronounced as Rey has slowly cleared the greenhouse and made space for spring.

“Oh. Well, it might be nice, but I like getting things done on my own.” He looks professional in his slacks and dress shirt, dark hair in soft waves that reach just under his ears. If she leaned up on the tips of her toes, she’d be able to touch it — but then she’d mess it up, and that’s not why either of them are here, so she banishes _that_ thought away.

“Unless you would like to get your hands dirty for once?” 

His mouth quirks upwards, not quite a smile but a far cry from his frown. “Maybe next week.” 

When he rolls around next week, he’s still in slacks and a dress shirt, and she points it out the moment she sees him. “I thought I was finally going to get some help from the infamous Ben Solo,” she says. 

“And what exactly did I do to warrant such infamy?” 

“Oh, you know the caretakers here. They gossip. They say you were a very _exciting_ charge as a child. And now I know exactly how to punish you if you misbehave.” 

He finally, _finally,_ laughs at that, and Rey’s heart catches in her chest. It feels like she’s struck gold. 

The very next week, he arrives in a more casual outfit, jeans and a t-shirt. Rey does her best not to notice the curl of his arms or the way they flex when he moves to grab something from a cupboard. 

She’s given him her weekly progress report, having taken care to note that she’ll need to go into town soon to buy more materials. She’s itching to get out and _see_ people again — short trips into the city to check on the Garden and calls with Finn are nice, but she misses greeting customers, picking out arrangements, little bits of her old life she’d given up for this special project.

“Are you my new assistant?” her hair is up in a bun and she might have a speck of dirt on her cheek, but her smile is wide as she gazes up at him, cheeky and a little bit addicted to those eyes. 

“If you’ll have me, yes.” 

They walk together to the greenhouse and she puts him to work, silently appreciating the broad swell of his back as he leans over to grab leaves and place them in a plastic garbage bag. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, despite his original criticisms. She wonders what might have changed his mind. 

They work in silence for a while, the soft sounds of work doing enough to fill up the room. He’s diligent and focused, but every once in a while she looks up to catch him staring before his eyes shift elsewhere. 

She’s walking over to his side to place some dirty leaves in a bag when her foot trips over a stray garden hose, sending her flying towards the pavement with a shove. She groans from the floor, hands scraped and red, until a pair of stronger arms come across her shoulders. “Are you okay?” 

Rey groans, turning around to stare up into his wide eyes. “I’m okay, but I think my ankle…” 

“Can you walk?” 

She tries to push herself up, wincing loudly when she applies pressure to her left foot. He curses, picking her up from her back to carry her under her legs towards the kitchen. Her arms wind around his neck, the pain only slightly abated by his warm grasp. His hair is long enough to reach at the nape of his neck and she marvels at how soft it is in her hands, giddy despite the pain that she is actually touching it. 

He sets her down on the kitchen island, grabbing a stool to sit in front of her before taking a first aid kit out of a drawer. 

“Can you point to where it hurts?” 

“I can _tell_ you. It’s my ankle, I think.”

His hands grasp her ankle gently, but it’s enough to force her eyes closed in pain. He curses again, rubbing it softly in the silent hope his touch alone will heal her.

“Can I take off your shoes?” 

She manages a soft laugh at that, nodding. He slowly undoes her shoelaces, gripping her shin and pulling the boot off of her foot to reveal pink socks with daisies on them. He smiles appreciatively. “Nice.”

“Oh, you should see my green ones with the hydrangeas.” She nudges him with her good foot while he sets to work, slinking her sock down to gain access to the skin there. It’s a definitively clinical act, and her ankle _does_ hurt, but something about the way his fingers grasp at the fabric, touching her skin gently in the process, causes a shiver to run through her. The tips of his ears are pink and he is fixated on her ankle, avoiding her eyes.

He pokes around to get a grasp of the pain before determining it’s probably just a sprain, wrapping her ankle in gauze. “You shouldn’t walk on it for a few days, though.” 

“Aye-aye, captain. Guess that means I should finally take a break from all this,” she laughs. “I’ve been sort of nonstop.” 

His hand is still loosely grasping her ankle, and she hopes he won’t move it. “Everyone needs a break sometimes,” he says. 

Silence stretches out between them as she ponders his words. 

“Why did you want to demolish the greenhouse?” she asks, her curiosity getting the best of her. 

He thinks on it for a moment before responding. “I didn’t see the value in it. Still don’t, if I’m honest with you.” She winces at his candor and he rubs a finger softly over the ankle as though in apology. “ _But,_ this estate means a lot to my mother. The grandmother that this estate belonged to, we never knew her — not really. I guess she thinks if she keeps this, she’ll maintain that legacy somewhere. I don’t know if I agree with that, but… I’m trying to honor her wishes.” 

There’s an honesty there, a rawness, that Rey wasn’t expecting. “Your family cares about you,” she whispers. “The caretakers, your mother, they all sing your praises. It would do you well to appreciate that.”

She avoids mentioning that these are things she never had — things she might never have. When he doesn’t answer, she clears her throat, feeling awkward. 

“ _And_ it’s a lovely greenhouse. I hope I’m able to do it justice, when all is said and done.” 

His fingers are still rubbing absently on her ankle, and he’s looking at her pink socks with the daisies on them when he says, “You will. You already have.” 

**_Fall_ **

She can’t stop thinking about Ben Solo. 

As the oppressive heat of summer gives way to the comfortable shade of Fall, Rey continues working on the greenhouse. She’s finished with cleaning and is now in the process of preparing the space and fertilizing the mulch. Ben continues to visit every week, and each time she feels herself falling deeper and deeper into something dangerous. 

His clothes are always casual now, ready to jump in and help if she asks. Sometimes she does, just to see the sheen of sweat take over his features and dampen his hair a bit. He watches her carefully as she works, scolding her if she walks too quickly and jumping to reach her if she trips over a branch. 

He tells her about his work. He’s a writer, and he’s published three books already. They’re literary fiction and he tells her not to read them, but she looks them up that night anyways and devours the first. They’re good. 

She tells him about the Garden, and Rose and Finn, and the life and person she was before the greenhouse. He promises he’ll visit the next time he has a free afternoon, but that he’d really like _her_ to show it to him instead. She promises him that she will. 

He tells her about losing his father, and how he regrets not reaching out sooner. She understands his conversation with his mother a little more now. 

She tells him about growing up alone in a world that didn’t want her, how Rose and Finn are the only family she’s ever really had. He takes her hand in his and doesn’t let go of it for a while. 

Leia hasn’t been there in person since that first visit, but they talk on the phone often. When Rey asks about Ben on a phone call Leia reply has a knowing lilt to it, but Rey doesn’t pay it any mind. 

They’re in the greenhouse when she hears her stomach grumble, and they amble together into the kitchen before he gets an idea. 

“Sit down,” he instructs, pointing towards the island. “I hear you’re a very bad cook.” 

“Who told you that?” she asks, face reddening. It’s true. She’s been living like a bunny this entire time. It’s worked out for her her entire life, so it’s mostly a force of habit, really.

Before she knows it, he’s racing around the kitchen, grabbing spices and vegetables and assembling a meal of pasta with tomatoes and garlic, and her mouth is _watering._ He brings the bowl of pasta over to her and sits near her on a stool, similar to the setup when she’d sprained her ankle. This time, she’s holding a bowl of food made for her by someone else and it is warm and filling and _delicious._

“Do you like it?” he asks, almost shyly. 

She does like it. She likes it quite a bit, and she feels full and happy and like something new is blooming in her heart for the first time in a long time. She nods, appreciating the way his blush makes him look young and full of life, such a far cry from the man that scowled and slumped the day they met. 

When he gets up to wash the dishes, she grabs his wrist, pulling him towards her. The added height gives her a good vantage point, and they’re at eye level with each other. She didn’t plan this far ahead — didn’t realize those eyes would be so hypnotizing so far up close, so it takes her a moment to remember what she wanted to do in the first place. 

And then she kisses him. 

His lips are soft, and for a moment he’s so still she wonders if she read this all wrong, pulling away to apologize before he pulls her back in, cradling her face with those large hands of his. Their lips move tentatively across each other, unsure and nervous but quickly gaining confidence. 

“Been wanting to do this for a while,” he whispers, moving away for a second to catch his breath before pressing another soft kiss to her cheek. 

She smiles softly. “Me, too.” 

She doesn’t keep track of how long they sit in the kitchen exploring each other, can only focus on the fact that kissing him is the sweetest thing she’s ever done — and she never wants to stop. 

His visits become more frequent after that. Where they were once borne out of requirement and duty, they are now borne out of the desire to see her. She pretends it doesn’t leave her giddy, but she preens each time she opens the door of the estate to find him there.

They go to the market together late in the Fall to buy some seeding and fertilizer that she’s been needing. Varykino is beautiful, and with the trees giving their last bow before the cold settles in, Rey is glad to get to enjoy some of it with him. These last few months have been nothing short of exhilarating. 

His hand doesn’t let go of hers as he guides her throughout the town, leading her into the market where her eyes go wide at the variety. 

Leia had signed off on her plans for the greenhouse, but she shows them to Ben while they walk, excitedly pointing out where certain things will go. 

“I think magnolias will look lovely here, and over in the corner we should really focus our energy on keeping an ivy wall, and…” she trails off, looking up when she notices he hasn’t really been paying attention. His eyes aren’t anywhere near the paper. They’ve been watching her. 

“Sounds perfect. Whatever that brain of yours is thinking of doing, it sounds perfect to me,” he says, kissing her on the forehead. 

Once they get the materials they need, he buys her an apple cider and they sit at a pumpkin patch, watching the children and their parents clumsily warble around. 

As dusk settles in, so does the cold, and he tucks her into his shoulder as she nuzzles him sleepily. “It’s getting late, Ben… are you going to be able to catch the train?” 

He turns to tip her head upwards with a finger on her chin, eyes pleading. “I was actually hoping I could stay? I made sure a separate room is made up for me. Just wanted to spend more time with you.” 

“Oh,” she smiles lazily, meeting the distance between them with a kiss. “I’d like that. Don’t think you need your own room, though.”

He laughs; they come so easily now she can’t believe there was ever a time she wondered what it would take to draw one out of him. “Good. I was bluffing.” 

When they get back to the estate, he helps her haul in the bags of mulch, fertilizer, and seeds, dragging them into the greenhouse before slumping against the wall in mock exhaustion. She giggles, nearing closer and drawing her arms around him. The glass of the greenhouse wall is cold where her hands meet it, but his body is warm and draws her in. 

When he kisses her it's slow and languid, and it feels like a promise. The stars twinkle differently out here, their own private planetarium show as they find new ways to learn about each other. She nips at his earlobes, he presses a kiss against the crook of her neck while her fingers run through his hair. They groan against their mouths and grip desperately at each other’s clothes, finding the decency to escape towards her room just before it’s too late.

When she invites him into her room that night, it’s not perfect; they are still exploring uncharted territory, taking notes and studying so that each time after can be better, more perfect, a little bit of soft guidance here and gentle nudges there. They laugh off the mistakes and silence groans with kisses.

Rey revels in feeling held the way Ben Solo is holding her, his arms splayed across her while he whispers about how she’s a goddess; he presses a kiss to her shoulder. How he never wants to be apart from her for another day; he presses a kiss just under her breast. 

How he thinks he’s falling in love with her. 

They stop, her eyes wide and frozen. He sputters. 

“You… you don’t have to say it back, I don’t want to pressure you, but—”

“ _Ben,”_ she whispers, in awe. What an idiot. _Her_ idiot. “I love you, too.” 

He moves up to capture her lips, kissing her fiercely before continuing his earlier ministrations across her body, lower even, this time with just one phrase, repeated: 

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

**Winter**

She needs to find out how to tell Leia. 

She knows Ben hasn’t told Leia, because although Ben has promised to make a concerted effort to repair the wound he left in his family, it’s a slow process. He doesn’t tell her much. So she knows it’s up to her. 

The cold of winter has made her work slow; she won’t need to plant the seeds until January, when things start warming up, so she spends more time in the city again. Leia signed off on this, happy with the progress Rey had made. She spends one week there, one week here, and Ben goes with her.

It feels good to be in the Garden again, her hip jutting against Rose’s when they make a funny joke, making idle chatter with Finn when he comes in to bring his wife lunch. She introduces them to Ben one day when he finally makes it in, leading him to the backroom for the tour. 

She kisses him while he toys with the knot on her apron. “Wait, let me look at this for a second,” he mumbles against her, leaning back to appreciate the soft khaki fabric, a burgundy knit sweater under it. “I like this. Why don’t you wear this at home?” 

Hiding her face in his chest, she hugs him, shrugging. He’s started calling the estate, the greenhouse, _home_ , and she doesn’t quite know how to feel about it. Wasn’t it only a few months ago he’d been eager to sell it? “Overalls are better if I’m gonna be covered in dirt,” she says. “Here I can pretend there’s something pretty to keep clean.” 

“You’re always pretty,” he mumbles against her head. “Dirt or otherwise.” 

She separates from him to clip at a few flowers, mind already racing to create an arrangement. 

“We need to tell your mother, Ben,” she grabs a bunch of white roses and baby’s breath, placing them on the table in front of her. “She needs to know.” 

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I know… I’m working on it, I promise. All of it.” 

She looks up at him, hopeful. “ _All_ of it?”  
  
“I called my uncle the other day.” 

She stops, shocked for once. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s going to take a while, but with the holidays coming up, I thought…” 

She runs to hug him, excited all over again. “Oh, Ben, this is great. It’ll be worth it, I promise. There’s nothing like family.”

She doesn’t mean to get emotional when she says this. The realization that she doesn’t have one hits him before it hits her and he kisses her furiously. “I know. You’ve taught me that, Rey. In more ways than you know.” 

She finishes Leia’s arrangement that same night, sending it off to her with a sweet card. As a thank you. 

The weeks they’re not in the city, they enjoy the quiet of the country. Even though it’s winter, they find ways to stay warm — snuggling under the covers, drinking hot chocolate, keeping _each other_ warm via copious amounts of sex. 

They make sure to balance it with plenty of time working — she fiddles around in the greenhouse, collecting dirt while the greenhouse slowly, but surely, prepares for life to take foot. He writes. It’s a quiet and happy existence, and Rey feels like her head is spinning every time she tries to make sense of it. Surely this can’t be happening to her? 

“I didn’t realize what this place could be,” he says as they lie naked on a Saturday morning, too lazy and content to get up. His arms are pressed around her torso, pulling her towards him. “It’s always felt like a piece of unfixable junk, waiting to be sold.” 

“Nothing is unfixable, Ben,” she says, kissing his forearms. His nose nuzzles the crook of her shoulder, sending shivers along the base of her neck even now, when she’s as warm as a person can possibly be in the dead of winter. “Not if you try.” 

Leia invites her over for Christmas, which is ironic because she’s planning to host it at the estate. She called her over the phone one morning while Ben’s head was planted directly between her thighs, and it was the most painful phone call she’d ever managed. 

“So, do you think that’s okay? I know the greenhouse won’t be ready, but the caretakers have assured me they can leave the rest of the house ready. You don’t have to come, of course, but… well, I’d love for you to be there.”

Rey gulps, asking Ben a silent question from where he’s moved to rest against her. _I’m going to tell her,_ she mouths. He nods, flushed from the tips of his ears to his broad chest. 

“I would love to, Leia. Thank you so much for the invitation,” she pauses, collecting herself. “There is something I’d like for you to know, though…” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, you see, Leia… I wanted to tell you this in person but it’s just been so busy lately,” _a lie,_ “but Ben and I are actually… well, you see—” 

Rey is interrupted by a raspy chuckle that starts slow but picks up steam until Rey is laughing along nervously, not quite sure how to proceed. 

“Oh, honey. You think I didn’t know about you and Ben?”  
“Well, um…” 

“I thought you knew, what with him spending half of his time there, the caretakers aren’t quiet. Neither are you two, apparently.” 

Rey’s vision goes blurry for a second before she smacks a palm to her face in agony. _The caretakers._ “Leia, oh my God, I didn’t think you’d find out this way, I’m sorry, I just—” 

“ _Rey._ There’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve been doing your job this entire time just fine and I trust you,” she says, and Rey’s heart slows down the tiniest bit. 

“It would be very difficult for me to be angry at the only girl that has ever made my son _this_ happy, Rey. You have nothing to worry about.” 

When Rey hangs up, she’s mortified, pushing away to take the coldest shower of her life before he pulls her back towards the bed. 

“Do I want to know?”

“Well, to start, your mother definitely knows. And I’m definitely invited to Christmas,” she starts, closing her eyes. “ _And_ we need to get those caretakers to sign NDAs from now on.” 

For some inexplicable reason he _laughs,_ a sound so contagious and intoxicating that Rey ends up laughing against him, until he closes her mouth with a deep kiss. A kiss that says a lot of things, but most importantly — _this is it, it’s you and me against the world._

Christmas rolls around before she’s truly prepared for it. She helped decorate, bringing in poinsettias and trailing lights across the estate, while she forced Ben to go pick up the tree and bring it into the living room, whistling at those broad arms. They decorate it together, poking at each other with the ends of the ornaments and kissing the tiny bruises to make them better. 

When Leia and Luke arrive, Ben is stiff and uncomfortable, but he tries. And Luke tries. And the ghost of Han is present the entire night, but they are all _trying._ She doesn’t know much about this family, but she knows that’s more than they thought was possible. 

The food is delicious, thanks to Ben’s tireless efforts in the kitchen, and Leia praises the flower arrangements and decorating. 

“You’ve really turned things around here, Rey,” Leia compliments, and there’s something else in her eyes, warm and loving that Rey can’t bear to evaluate right now. “Want to give us a final tour of the greenhouse before spring?” 

She guides them through her tiny sanctuary — _home,_ though she only lets herself call it this in private moments — with Ben’s warm hand nestled in the small of her back. She’s pointing out how she plans to arrange everything, the soft smell of grass and life pungent even now, and she goes off on a few tangents as she gets lost in her own little world under a glass-cased sky that came from nothing, that she knows will become something. Maybe a little bit like herself. 

When Ben and Rey settle for the night, they do their own tiny gift exchange. She’d hidden hers for weeks, terrified of him finding it and ruining the surprise. 

He’s all shock and boyish wonder when she unveils the calligraphy set she got him with special paper to practice on, kissing her firmly on the lips in a special form of gratitude the two of them alone share. 

He gifts her a special pair of overalls with daisies embroidered all throughout. The denim is extremely luxurious in her hands and her eyes water as she looks at them, imagining herself wading through the greenhouse in it, Ben sneaking up behind her on a warm spring day to catch her with a kiss before he goes back to work. 

That night as she falls asleep with Ben’s head in her arms, hands roaming over his soft hair absently, she wonders how the hell she got here. How something so random as a contract for a greenhouse renovation could have led to all of _this._

She dreams of daisies and calligraphy sets and the endless possibility of spring that can come after even the harshest winter.

**Spring**

Rey has been a bundle of nerves since January, and it transferred well into February. She’d been tracking the final grips of cold for the past month now, stepping out in the early mornings with her cardigan fastened around her to check for herself. She could watch the weather channel all she wanted, but she needed to _feel_ it for herself to know for certain. 

Then, one morning, she gets up with a jolt. She _feels_ it. She steps outside barefoot to be sure, the grass cold around her toes but not cold enough that there is a risk of another frost. She just knows. 

She runs in, excited, shaking Ben from the throes of sleep so hard that he gets up and shouts about an intruder before Rey soothes him with a kiss. 

“No intruders, it’s just time to plant!” She runs out to change into her overalls from Christmas. She’d been saving them for this very moment. She gets ready for the day, knowing that by the end of it her muscles will be sore and her gloves all dirty, but that she will have planted new life. 

She’d spent the past few months nurturing this greenhouse, making it an environment where things could grow, preparing it slowly. And now, here she was, taking her final steps. 

She didn’t know what waited for her after Leia unveiled the greenhouse — she supposed she’d go back to work at the Garden, to the city with Ben, to a life that she had more or less left behind last summer when she’d taken this job. 

It makes her want to cry. She’d grown attached to this domed creature of glass. She could walk it blindly, feel her way through on muscle memory alone. Leaving it behind would feel a little bit like heartbreak.

There was no time for crying, though. She hauls out the seeds and gets to work. It was a large greenhouse, after all, and it would take her at least two weeks to properly get through everything she had planned. She was ready for it. 

Ben walks in a few hours later to bring her a bagel, reminding her to eat, patting her on the butt playfully. 

“I like those overalls. Where’d you get ‘em?” 

“Some cute guy gave ‘em to me,” she says, her mouth full of food. He kisses her anyways, even though she knows he finds it gross when she does that. 

They spend the next few weeks like this: she gets up early, sinks herself into work in the greenhouse, and he passes by a few times a day to bring her snacks and remind her to breathe. Leia asks to stop by just once before the reveal in May, and they settle on a date in late April. 

The rains in March patter against the ceiling of the greenhouse while Rey works furiously, checking her map and cross checking with her blueprint to keep herself organized. Ben keeps writing. 

By the time the plants have all been, well, _planted,_ Rey busies herself with nurturing them. She takes time out of her day to water each section individually, talking and singing to them as she goes. Ben looks at her like she’s some wild thing he picked up off the side of the road, and she supposes she is, but she read in a magazine that singing to plants helps them grow. He trusts her. 

By now her and Ben have eased into a level of domesticity that leaves her wondering how they only met last summer. She keeps the water bottle on his writing desk cold because she knows he likes to write late at night, while he always leaves a dry towel for her in the bathroom because he knows she likes them extra warm. They find unique ways to spice up their love life, finding special spots to experiment around the estate while avoiding the caretakers as best they can. Not the greenhouse, though. Never the greenhouse. 

On the rare occasion that he needs to go into the city for business, he brings her little trinkets or passes by the Garden to bring her bouquets that Rose helps him put together. He makes sure there are always daisies. 

She goes into the market to buy refills for his calligraphy ink, because he tends to forget. She loves the look of ink all over his hands, the way he bends over to get the angles just right. 

She calls him into the greenhouse one afternoon, hunched over her violets. They’re not growing in time with the others, but she feels confident. 

He greets her with a kiss on the cheek, murmuring against her neck. _Hmm?_

“Do you think… Do you think we can come and visit, every once in a while? Once I’m done with the greenhouse?” The caretakers can technically keep the plants alive once her job is done, and she knows this precious time is coming to an end. 

He’s silent for a moment, and then he takes her hand in his. “Of course we can, Rey. Of course we will.” 

The violets end up blooming right on time, of course. Along with the roses, daisies, magnolias, ivy, and all of the other plants she’d meticulously planted over the course of the past year. When Leia visits in April, they’ve just barely sprouted, tiny buds opening up into the world. Rey is _beaming_ when she shows them to Leia. 

It looks, quite literally, like a rainbow threw up in there. Rey makes sure to highlight why she chose each spot for each flower or plant, gesticulating with her hands as she does. 

“Rey, this is…” there are tears in Leia’s eyes. Last summer, she’d brought Rey to a decaying, dead thing that needed the right sort of care to grow. Today, it was flourishing. “You’ve outdone yourself.” 

Rey shakes it off. Or tries to. This was a year of labor after all. “This? I… well, yes. I did, didn’t I?” 

The two laugh, and Leia looks at her with a newfound appreciation — like she’s proud. Rey imagines what it might be like to have this relationship with her forever. She already sees the woman as a mother-in-law, but she keeps those thoughts to herself, terrified of jinxing anything and destroying this tiny ledge of stability she’s found. 

“Are you excited to get back to your store?” 

Rey sighs, hands in her overalls, fiddling with the embroidered daisies. “Yes, and no? I miss it, having my own little system and world. But I guess for a while _this_ was my world. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye.” 

Leia looks like she wants to reply to that, but before she can, Ben calls for her. “Mom? I need to talk to you.” 

Rey gets the message and doesn’t follow, choosing instead to do another run-through of the greenhouse and check the tile for dirt. She doesn’t know what Ben could want to talk to his mother about, but her eavesdropping days are far behind her. 

Spring has always felt like a breath of fresh air. On Naboo, this is _especially_ true, as the world slowly unfurls from its winter nap and seeks out the sunlight, curling upwards. 

The day that Leia has chosen to reveal the greenhouse is the _perfect_ spring day. Rey wakes up early, leaving Ben asleep in bed, to make sure everything in the greenhouse is as it should be. She asks the caretakers if they need any help and they direct her to the grand dining room, where she sets up the plates and tables for the event. 

Some bouquets from the Garden have been brought over, and she uses them to decorate placing tiny flowers on the fruit arrangement, the cheese board, the plates. 

She’s invited Rose and Finn for the event, and Leia has dealt with her own roster. Until the event actually _starts_ , she hasn’t got much to do, so she goes back to the room to get ready. Ben is awake this time, scrolling through his phone, and he smiles when he sees her. It doesn’t reach his eyes, though. 

“Everything okay?” she asks, stripping down into her underwear as she gets ready for her shower. 

He hums, but still manages to look like he saw a ghost. Rey is too panicked on her own about the greenhouse to worry about that, though, so she slips into the shower and starts to get ready. 

The dress she’s decided on is white, with ruffles around the edges and small, yellow flowers along the collar. It’s subtle, but she prefers not to upstage her creation and goes for simplicity. 

Ben gets ready after her, wearing a dress shirt and slacks that remind her of that first day. She knew exactly how to get him to smile now; could tell you his deepest secrets and greatest fears. He knew hers, too. He was her person. And all because of her greenhouse. 

She needed to stop calling it hers. It _wasn’t_ hers and, even though she and Ben were not breaking up any time soon, it didn’t do well to consider his things hers at this point. 

Leia entertains her guests as they arrive, while Ben, Rey, Finn and Rose huddle together, watching the festivities unfold. 

It was mostly fellow coworkers of Leia’s that had joined in on the fun, along with Luke and Ben’s other uncle Lando, but given the fact that Leia was a senator, these were high-profile guests.

Rey feels woefully inadequate. She tells Ben as much, only for him to strengthen his grip around her waist and kiss her cheek. “You’re the brightest thing in this room. Don’t forget that.” 

When the time for speeches arrives, Leia makes her own, about spring and new life, gesturing for Rey to step up when she’s done. 

Rey looks like a deer caught in headlights, but she walks up anyways, thinking of her greenhouse. And Ben. And this tiny life she’s lived over the past year. 

“A year ago, I was just a florist with a business license. Then, I spent a year among these walls — _those_ glass walls, specifically, finding a way to bring life where there was none. When I get here, this place was… I hope you’ll forgive me Leia, but this place was a mess. I spent all of last summer cleaning it up, bringing it back to zero, and preparing space for something new,” she dares to look at Ben as she says this, catching his eyes and staying there. “I realized that there is always space for new life if you’re willing to let it grow. Spring will _always_ be around the corner, and with it a new chance for opportunity. I’m honored to share this with you all and I hope you like what I’ve done with the place. This place has certainly given me a thing or two in return.” 

She doesn’t realize until after the claps, after walking into Ben’s arms and hugging him, that she started crying. 

The guests filter into the greenhouse then, the sounds of their _oohing_ and _ahhing_ music to Rey’s ears. She answers questions as she walks the room, taking business cards and promising to catch up and check out _that_ senator’s backyard or _that_ dignitary’s garden. 

The greenhouse empties out as the drinks start to flow in the main room, but Rey stays, admiring her project. She’s sad to leave it still, yes, but endlessly proud of what she’s done. She doesn’t realize Ben has walked into the room until he clears his throat. 

She turns around, running to hug him. “Oh, Ben. Today went so well, don’t you think?” 

“All because of you. You know that, right? The only reason this place is worth a damn now is because of you.” 

She’s heard praise all day but _this_ is what makes her blush. She notices he’s still pale as a ghost, though, and points out as much. 

“I’m fine, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” 

“Oh?”

“I’ve been thinking about this, us… and, Rey—” 

Her mind goes haywire, heart pounding furiously in her chest as she realizes what’s about to happen. She finished the project, she’s done her job, and it was all fun and games in the moment but now he’s going to _leave her_ and she’ll be without him and the only place in the world she’s ever felt she could call _home_ and—

“Rey, hey. Wait. What’s going on?” He’s shaking her and she realizes she must have been hyperventilating slightly. She closes her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. She’d had that _whole_ speech about him and this goddamned greenhouse and _spring_ and—

“ _Rey,”_ he was firmer now. “I need you to talk to me.” 

“If you’re going to break up with me, please just do it quickly,” she pleads, her voice wavering. 

“What? _Break up with you?_ Oh my God, Rey, sweetheart, I’m not breaking up with you.” 

“Y-you’re not?” 

He shakes his head, and she swats his arm. “Why couldn’t you have led with that!”

“You didn’t give me a chance to start!”

She sighs, embarrassed, hands covering her face. “I’m sorry. I panicked.” 

He laughs, pulling her into his arms. “Rey, I’d be a goddamned idiot to break up with you. I’m an idiot, yes, but not that much of one.” 

Rey laughs, and she notices that the sky out is just as full of stars as that night they first kissed. This time, though, the floral perfume in the air is evidence enough of how much things have changed. How much time there is for them to keep changing. 

“Then what is it?” 

He looks nervous once again, fidgeting with his pocket. “Well… I had this whole speech planned, but then you got me nervous and I think I’ve forgotten most of it by now, so… can you just close your eyes for me?” 

She plays along, eyes closing demurely. “Okay, Mr. Solo. Eyes closed.” 

“Okay,” she hears him fiddling with his pocket, then the rustling of leaves. “Open them now.” 

He’s not in front of her like he was before. No, when Rey opens her eyes, she sees Ben Solo, the grumpy son of the woman that contracted her to restore her greenhouse, down on one knee with a reverent gleam in his eyes. 

“Rey, I’m not… great at speeches. But you make me want to be. You make me want to write you poems, and cook you breakfast, lunch and dinner, and buy you overalls with _flowers_ on them, and learn to differentiate between hydrangeas and violets… Rey, you make me want to do all of those things and more. Every single day, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?” 

Rey is crying, she knows she’s crying and her mascara is running and she doesn’t care because the love of her life just asked her to marry her. The two of them, alone against a sky full of stars and a greenhouse full of _her_ flowers, and already she feels the weight of the future lifting her up and sailing her away. 

“God, Ben, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you!” He gets up to place the ring — a beautiful, diamond that bears the same crest as Leia’s ring — on her finger and kisses her fiercely. This kiss is another promise: _I will be with you until the end of time._

She isn’t surprised when she meets with Leia, Rose, and Finn to find out they all knew he was going to propose. She sits with Rose and they fantasize about the wedding — it will be _here,_ Rey decides, right here in her greenhouse — and her flowers, her babies, seem to know about it too, opening up in the moonlight to provide the prettiest bloom she’s ever seen. 

When Ben and Rey get ready for bed that night, she can’t stop staring at the ring. She hasn’t had more than a glass of champagne, but she feels drunk and high all at the same time — the ecstasy of being in love, she figures. 

Ben’s arms come around her that night as they’ve done hundreds of times before, and he asks her if she’s happy. 

“Ben, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” she kisses him softly, tenderly. “I only have one request.”

“Anything.” 

“Can we still come often? Now that this is all over, I know we won’t need to be here as often, but I’d still like to come and tend to the greenhouse. If we can?”

This time he kisses her, just as softly. Just as tenderly. Every ounce of love he has is in that kiss. 

“Rey, the greenhouse, all of this, it’s yours. Yours to do what you want with. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.” 

He kisses her one more time, for good measure, and Rey goes to sleep that night knowing the rest of her life is about to truly start. This year was just the beginning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hi on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/hidingsolo)


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